There's two songs that you need to play for this chapter. The most important one is the second one :)

This chapter is my longest one yet, so prepare yourself.

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T.W: Abuse, depictions of abuse (Physical and Verbal), alcohol abuse, mature topics, mentions of mental distress, depictions of mental distress. The triggering stuff ends when it says: "Present-day-" feel free to skip to there if you are affected by any of the triggers.

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Nova-

10 years ago-

When I was younger, we moved a lot- most of the time, it was for my parents' work.

The very last time we moved, however, was for a much bigger reason.

I sat on the floor of my new room, staring blankly at the barren wall in front of me.

The room was dark because I hadn't opened my blinds since we moved.

The room was empty aside from the mattress- which was pushed against a wall, my one pillow, and my blanket- which I had messily strewn across the mattress.

I had spent every day since we had arrived- cooped up in the room.

I'd been curled up on the floor or in a corner- trying to understand why I had to be involved in my parents' erratic decision to move.

My family and I moved into a new house. My mind wasn't in the right place to decorate, so I left everything untouched.

My boxes were still packed- as a silent protest to my parents who, in contrast to me, were decorating the house religiously- as if they believed new furniture would erase our dolorous past.

The very past that changed everything.

The very past that left me weak, isolated, and heartbroken.

Every passing day was supposed to get better- the therapists had promised.

I was supposed to get better, but in all honesty, it kept getting worse.

I was getting worse.

I was also 10.

I hadn't been able to sleep since the accident, but sometimes, my body would start to relax; I would slowly start to drift, and it would get very dark.

I would almost be able to taste the relief of sleep, but right before I could truly graze the surface of peace- I would start shaking, hyperventilating, and my mind would go to very dark places.

Then, my eyes would shoot open- letting me revel in my sweaty body, rapid heart, and sporadic mind.

These brief moments were panic attacks.

I knew that from the therapists my parents had let me see after the accident.

My mental health seemed to be disintegrating with every sunrise; I was holding on to the moon with my dear life.

I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't socializing.

I was, honestly, so scared for myself.

I was also scared of myself.

I taught myself how to turn off my brain, so I couldn't think because every time I thought- it brought me more pain than clarity.

It had been 6 months since the accident. My body and my mind were moving at two different paces.

My body was the sea; My mind was the boat; I was the captain during the storm- just trying to stay afloat until shore.

Somedays, I couldn't even get up in the mornings. On the days that I could- I would wish I hadn't.

We had arrived on Tuesday morning, it was Friday afternoon, and I still hadn't unpacked a single box.

Yes- as a way to protest- but also because I didn't have the energy.

My parents were busy with important decisions like whether they should paint their bathroom walls Coventry Grey or Abalone.

They didn't have time to care about me or that I hadn't left this empty room since we had arrived.

I had become so dissociated from my feelings that I hadn't cried since my parents told my sisters and me that we would be moving.

That was 2 months prior.

I had cried so much that night.

Even if living in that house meant watching the once happy, full-of-life, and radiant house turn into an unfriendly, meaningless, and unpropitious space- I would bear it- especially if it meant living with what I had left of her.

My parents had decided- without my opinion- that living in the house where we had our last memories with her- the only person who made every house a home- was too much.

"A fresh slate," they called it.

It didn't feel fresh.

We had moved 10 hours away into a new house in the country.

The house was large and beautiful- It was something to be proud of- but how could you be proud of something that was bought to mask grief?

I knew that the accident had affected my parents too, but they never showed it, and it made me feel weak for showing that it affected me.

It also made me angry that they didn't display their pain. Maybe, if they did, I wouldn't have felt so alone.

My younger sisters were too young to care, so they ran around the damn house playing games and making new memories.

I couldn't be mad at them, but I wished I could.

I wished I could be mad at everyone.

I was mad at everyone.

So, very, painfully mad.

Even in the new house- filled to the brim with interior designers, painters, and builders- I still felt like I was the only one.

I felt suffocated, trapped, and I needed to taste freedom desperately. The only issue was mustering enough strength to reach out my hand and try to hold it.

If Estella were here, she would have taken me out for ice cream.

She would have gotten me out of this house by now.

Then again, if Estella were here- I wouldn't have felt the way I did.

If she were here- my dad wouldn't have already made a hole in the hallway outside of my room.

If she were here- my parents wouldn't be yelling at each other every night.

2-months later-

"You little bitch," he slurred.

I clenched my jaw, snapping my mouth shut.

"It's all your fault!" he yelled. "You are a worthless piece of shit!"

My eyes started to water.

I stood there watching him as he stumbled up to me, an empty bottle of Red-Label held in his hand. When he was 3 feet away from me, he threw the bottle at me.

I moved to the side so that the bottle didn't hit me.

I heard the loud shatter of the bottle hitting the wall behind me and all of the pieces falling to the floor.

My body jolted, and he got angrier.

I heard Scarlett start to cry from her room- and my eyes shot to my mother. I silently begged her for help, but she just stood there, watching as my father stumbled closer to me.

Traveling rearward until my spine hit the kitchen island, my 11-year old body started to quiver as my father glared at me.

Suddenly, I felt his hand on my hair, and my body went limp as he dragged me down the hallway by my hair.

I could hear him shouting, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

He projected my tiny body against my bedroom door.

My shoulder coincided with the wood, prompting me to cry in injury. I collapsed to the floor.

My shoulder ached, my tears bit, and my head throbbed.

My father's foot met my ribs- inducing me to cry again.

He picked me up by the collar of my shirt, opened the door, and threw me inside before slamming the door shut.

I landed on the hardwood floor, my already bruised knees tasting the brute pain.

"Worthless little shit," he spoke blatant enough for me to hear.

I lied on the cold floor, my tears making noise every time they hit the hardwood.

My choppy breathing, rapid heart, and the loud blood racing to my ears- was the only noise I heard over the loudness until he made the T.V. louder than the thump of my heart.

I kept thinking about how I didn't get dinner.

It was my birthday, and I didn't get dinner because my father didn't like the fact that I had accidentally left the back door unlocked after coming inside from playing.

I wondered how that made sense.

Why did it make sense in his head to hurt me because of something I had forgotten to do?

If he had given me a chance, I would have explained that Lucy was outside when I walked in, so I left the door open for her.

He didn't let me explain.

Would it have been different if he did let me explain?

My sniffles were the only things I could hear.

I didn't even get a present.

I didn't get cake.

Estella would have gotten a cake for me.

But Estella left.

Present-day-

I groan at the sound of my alarm.

Getting out of bed, I slump to my kitchen.

I make my iced coffee, grab a croissant and stare out of my window while I eat.

The birds are back, but now there's a new one.

I've started to call him Atlas. He and Celia get along really well, and I think they're dating, but Atlas might be cheating on her because I saw him sharing a bagel with Quinn yesterday.

I already hate Quinn, so now I hate her even more.

Bird drama can get pretty messy, so I'm trying to stay out of it.

When I finish with breakfast, I get ready for work.

I settle on cream-colored straight-legged jeans and a black button-down sweater.

I leave my hair down and put on gold jewelry.

When I'm ready, I walk out of my apartment building and walk to the subway.

I woke up earlier than needed today, so I have time to take in my surroundings instead of rushing.

I prefer the city at night, but it's still a sight during the day.

I pass by closed stores, multiple dripping clothing lines, and a bunch of cats.

I slide past the metro and onto the train. The subway is next to empty today, which makes me feel more relaxed. The other people sitting with me seem to be just like me- people headed to work.

I stare out the window as the train moves. Though, all you can see is black.

When I get out of the subway, I walk to Emmerson.

Amy isn't there today, and the woman taking her place just gives me a quick smile as I sign my name on the board.

I return the smile and take the elevator up to my floor.

The floor is void of many people because almost everyone has early meetings today.

I set my stuff down at my desk and grabbed a donut they had at the snack table. I'm not a big fan of donuts. I think they're too sweet, but every now and then, I'll still eat one.

After an hour of doing schoolwork, Mae's assistant tells me that Mae wants to see me. I can't recall any reason that Mae would need to talk to me, but I stand up anyway.

Her assistant opens the door wide enough for me to enter.

Mae greets me with a smile, "Hey!"

I return the smile, "Hi!"

"I've been meaning to ask you something," she says, shifting through papers on her desk.

I nod, telling her to go on.

"I have an event tonight," she starts. "But I have to attend a conference for the first half, and I need someone to go there in my honor."

My eyes widened, "You want me to attend an event for Emerson?"

She nods, "Just for the first half at least."

I think it over, "What kind of event is it?"

She smiles, "It's an event for everyone our firm works with."

Those events are filled to the brim with rich and powerful people. People I do not mix well with.

"I don't think so," I say apologetically.

"Are you busy?" she asks.

I sigh, "No."

"Then you can't not come," she says. "This would be a great opportunity for you."

"Only for the first half?" I ask, giving up.

She smiles, "Only for the first half."

I pause. I could be at an event for a few hours.

"Okay," I agree. "What do I wear?"

"Just something fancy," she says with a grin of victory. "A simple dress will do."

That's no help. Mae's idea of a simple dress is probably something that was on an editorial magazine cover.

I nod and walk out.

The rest of the day goes by normally.

I make myself nervous for the night. I wish I hadn't agreed.

It helps with my new thing about stepping out of my comfort zone, so I don't cancel.

It also does really well for me when I make appearances at these events and mingle with powerful people- It's the only reason I let myself be persuaded into going to them.

When I'm done with the meeting I had to sit in, I grab my things and go home. Before I walk out, I tell Mae to text me the details of the event.

I took a taxi instead of the subway since the event starts at 7:30, and it was 6:00 right now.

It would probably end up taking me an hour to get ready since I get distracted easily, and I have no idea what to wear.

When I get home, I start the getting ready process. Music playing loudly in the background and everything. Honestly, sometimes I like the getting ready process more than I like the actual event.

I decide to do my hair and make-up before choosing an outfit.

I lightly curl my hair to give the already existing waves more definition. When I think it looks good, I get started on my make-up.

I've never been too good at make-up.

I would love to be able to do a full face of make-up and make it look good. I just don't have the talent.

I just put on concealer, blush, eyeliner, and mascara.

I used to hate my freckles so much. I would try to scrub them off of my face, but now, I embrace them.

My eyes are a dull shade of brown.

I don't hate them- I just think there are other more striking colors.

My hair is the same way. It's dark-brown, but I think it suits me, so I don't get insecure about it.

I've never been called pretty, beautiful, or attractive. When I have been called those things, it was because I had said it first and the other person was being nice- or they were saying it as a joke. If people do call me those things- I don't believe them.

Making myself walk away from the mirror, I open my closet door.

Mae said a simple dress, but I don't know if she means shopping mall simple or Gucci simple.

I look through every dress I own- not finding anything worth wearing.

After 10 minutes, my room is a mess. I have clothes on my bed, floor, and on top of my dresser.

Along with the mess, I still have nothing to wear.

I groan as I slide to the floor. I'm about to give up and call Mae to cancel when I see the green dress I had bought when I went thrifting with Violet a few months ago.

I had thrown it into the very back of my closet.

I decided to give it a try just because I'm low on time, and I'm desperate to find anything that will look good on me. I took off the shirt I was wearing and slid on the green dress. The fabric whispered against my skin.

I looked into the mirror. Luckily the dress isn't formfitting, so I don't have to suck in for the whole night.

I decide to keep the dress on because I don't hate the way I look today. Plus, I have nothing else that works.

The dress is a silk green dress with thin straps. I pair it with gold jewelry, a black purse, and tan strappy heels.

I grab a tan coat, and I leave my apartment, hoping I didn't forget anything.

Then, I spot the bracelet on my nightstand. The one Theo gave me all those years ago. It matches the dress and I feel compelled to wear it. I used to constantly mess with it when I was nervous and I know I'll be very nervous tonight so, I clasp it on.

I hail a taxi and find the address Mae had sent to me. The ride there was, luckily, short.

I paid the taxi driver and stood outside of the building for a little bit. The building was mostly glass and had steps that led to the front entrance.

It was already dark outside.

I slipped my phone into my coat before forcing my legs to walk forward.

Before I can reach the door, a couple opens the door for me, letting me in before them.

I smile at them politely before stepping into the building.

My heels make noise against the tile.

The man is wearing a simple navy-blue suit, and the woman is wearing a purple body-con dress.

People in white and black approach us. They take off my coat, and they take my purse.

I put my phone in my coat pocket, and now, I feel too awkward asking for it, so I just thank them before following the couple through the second entrance.

I'm hoping they're going to the right place.

Walking into the room- I'm instantly hit with the smell of fancy perfume, food, and alcohol.

It's too potent for my liking, but it's not the worst thing, so I deal with it.

Mae instructed me to speak to people and talk about new things going on at Emmerson- which would be easy if I knew how to address these people.

I walk around, looking at the room.

A separate set of doors leads to a room with a bar, a dance floor, and a stage.

The area I'm in has a stairway, multiple round tables with a white cloth draped over them, and chairs to sit in.

There are also stations for food that don't look too appetizing.

There are vines on the walls, people everywhere, and music that I don't recognize playing on the speaker.

I get approached by a man in a clean grey suit.

He looks intimidating until he smiles.

I smile back.

"Hello," he greets. "I'm Matthew Smith."

The man sticks out his hand for me to shake.

"Nova Scott," I say, taking his hand in mine.

He furrows his brows, "I apologize, but I don't think I'm familiar with that name."

"I work at Emmerson," I clarify.

His eyes immediately swelled with recognition, and he smiled broader.

"Of course," he says. "How do you like it? Is Mae giving you any trouble?"

I laugh and have a nice conversation with him about what it's like interning at Emmerson.

His whole vibe reminded me of a caring grandfather.

When we depart, he gives me his business card and tells me that I can come and watch how Law works in a different environment.

I feel a surge of confidence after that success, so I walk around some more, hoping someone else will approach me.

A woman with grey-ish blonde hair walks up to me with a smile.

"I love your dress," she gasps.

I look down at what I'm wearing, "Thank you."

She's in a dark blue dress that looks insanely fancy.

"I love yours, too," I say.

"Thank you," she smiles.

I stick out my hand for her to shake, "Nova Scott."

She reaches my hand. "Jane Alverez."

I find out that she's a fashion designer and that she designed the dress she's wearing.

She takes out her phone, shows me her newest designs- which are all runway-worthy, and I tell her how unique each of her pieces looks.

She thanks me, and gives me her business card in case I want to buy something.

I probably won't, but I take it anyway.

I approach the next person. It's a woman who has deep black hair and happens to work at Vogue. I tell her about how Tony works at Vogue, and she says she knows Tony, so we talk about Tony for some time.

I talk to 3 more people until I start to feel drained.

I decide to explore the place more since I've only stayed in the first room. I